


Static

by Nehanshika_524



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: ? sorta, Angel!Jonathan, Blood, Car Accidents, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gore, HAPP Y BIRTHDAY JORDAN, Heaven, Jonathan's sister, OC, depression tw, meph is a good father tbh, this took soooo much longer than it should have to write, trans jon is the best jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:41:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5253821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehanshika_524/pseuds/Nehanshika_524
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to... Not this way. Never this way.<br/>...Was it?<br/><strong>EDIT: I GIFTED THIS TO THE WRONG PERSON I'M SUCH AN IDIOT LMFAO SORRY</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	Static

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adhdhinata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhdhinata/gifts).



> **[CONSTANT DISCORDANT SCREAMING]**

"JONATHAN, NO!" Sock screamed. It was too late. There wasn't nearly enough time to--

CRASH. Blood splattered across the road as the bus came to a screeching, skidded halt, and thousands of kids poured out in fright. Gasps of horror came from all around as Jonathan lay, broken and bloody, before them. His hair was matted with red, a severed finger twitching a few feet away. Sock ran straight towards him, forcing himself through the many people, who shivered. He shook Jonathan's shoulders desperately, ears ringing.

"Come on, Jonathan. Come on. Wake up. You're not dead; y-you can't be. Heh, okay, you can stop pretending now. Wake up, Jonathan," his voice cracked, and tears were pouring from his eyes. "Jonathan? Oh, God no. No, no, no, no. No, Jonathan, you can't go with her! You can't! You have to come with  _me!_  Oh, God, oh my God. I'll- I'll never see you again, don't you get it? You  _have_  to come with- with-" He broke off, sobbing and clutching Jonathan's body.

Whispers began to surround them. They were nothing but buzzing static to Sock's ears. "Where did that kid come from? I've never seen him around..."

"How does he know Jessica?"

"Why is he calling her 'Jonathan'?"

"Hey, isn't that Napoleon Sowachowski? That kid who killed his parents and then himself?"

"How can he be here if he killed himself, idiot?

"Maybe he's a ghost..."

Jonathan raised his head slightly, facing the crowds that had gathered. Sock's voice caught in his throat.

"Demon, actually," he said, laughing. It sounded more like an agonised croak, and blood spurted from his lips. "Hey, Sock... Is there really a Heaven?"

He could barely choke out an answer. "Y-yeah... Yeah, there is. And God- she's black, by the way, heh- well, she's real, too."

"What's it like?" He asked softly. Someone was talking anxiously on their phone; the blare of distant sirens had begun to sound.

And so Sock described Heaven. How it was "personalised to the individual". What it meant to be an angel. How it wasn't really that cloudy; how there was a photo of it in Mephistopheles' office. He talked and talked, smiling shakily through his tears, until Jonathan slipped from his fingers, and the world of the living. Eyes closed, his chest stopped jaggedly rising and falling with breath.

Something switched then. Cold fingers gripped Sock's nonbeating heart, and crushed it like a vice. The fingers made their way up his throat, spidery and hateful as they froze everything they touched. Clenching and choking him, they refused to be swallowed away. The world dimmed into meaninglessness; pointless noise and colour.

The sirens were glaringly loud; several cars and vans had already arrived. Sock stood up. He turned and faced the officers, one of whom startled at the sight of his face. He fumbled for his handcuffs. Sock just looked away. His wrists slipped right through the metal, and policeman went very pale.

"Let me bury him," he said quietly. The air was dead and silent then- nobody made a sound. "Let me bury Jonathan." He repeated, this time louder. "You know he's dead. He was killed by a bus. His birth name is Jessica Combs. His next of kin is a sister named Clementine, but she wouldn't want him cremated. There'll be no funeral, just a burial. Is that okay?"

They nodded numbly, mumbling something about professional opinions. Sock didn't care. Let them pronounce an obviously dead person as dead, let them ask Clementine. He wouldn't be wrong.

The static blared louder. Sock's ears started ringing. Arguments, screams, people throwing things through him. He caught sight of Clementine running towards them; she retched behind a trash can, tears streaming from her eyes. They were so similar to Jonathan's.

One of the officers walked over, telling the others to keep an eye on Sock. The notion could have been funny. Why keep a close eye on a demon? He almost laughed.

Instead, he shut his mind off. Walking on autopilot. Barely registering what was happening. But he was told that yes, he had consent to bury Jonathan's body.

He nodded robotically, taking ahold of Jonathan's hand and closing his eyes. He concentrated on nothing but the graveyard; nothing but his parent's graves. The grass beside them. The tree behind them. The shovel left unceremoniously in the dirt.

The static stopped. And he opened his eyes, and he was there. No-one had filled in his grave, and he heard the faint hum of insects coming from it. Sock turned away, grabbed the shovel (with some difficulty), and got to work.

It took until nightfall. The same pattern over and over. Mindlessly digging and scraping until it was deep enough. Floating downwards, the boy lowered Jonathan's body as gently as he could. He filled in the hole threw the shovel aside, and the mask finally cracked.

A mess of tears, Sock cried and yelled into the sky. Why did it have to end like this?! It wasn't supposed to be this way. He would never see Jonathan again- and what happens to demons when they're fired?  _What's Mephistopheles gonna say?_  He buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

"I'm gonna say: I really regret giving you this job."

Sock looked up. Mephistopheles walked towards him and sat down, laying a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, kid. Didn't really pin you as the emotional type- but if I'd known, I never would have assigned you something like that. I mean, geez, you're screaming over the death of someone you were told to indirectly kill. It's gotta be tough."

He didn't say anything back for a while, just sat in silence as he tried to gulp back tears. "But... How did they... I mean, they saw me. As soon as J-Jonathan was-"

"Sock, it's okay. You're not the first demon to have been seen after falling for a counterpart. It makes your presence, y'know...  _obvious_."

The boy bristled. "I- I didn't-  _fall_  for hi-"

"Don't even try to lie to me, Sock. I've seen how you look at the guy; I knew. Everyone did." He said. But he was smiling. "I'm not angry with you, if  _that's_  what you were worried about. Disappointed, maybe, but not angry. Providence gave me a bit of a lecture, and, well... She figured that the quota could be filled with less innocent people instead."

Overflowing with questions, including who 'everyone' was, Sock tried to form some kind of reply. But he couldn't. His throat still felt raw and he could barely stutter out a coherent sentence. He just gaped and forced back the lump of tears that held back his voice. So instead of talking, he just sat back and sighed sadly. It was more of a breathy sob.

Somewhat awkwardly, Meph tried to continue with their rather one-sided conversation. "Uh... So, your job overview has changed. You only have to haunt the people who deserve it: rapists, serial killers, paedophiles, whatever. And as for Jonathan- well... he'd be off the hook. Of course, he would still have been able to see and hear you, being that you were his counterpart, but the assignment itself would'a be cancelled." He looked down at his hands. "Look, I... I'm sorry it ended this way instead. But if it's any consolation, Jonathan..." He trailed off. "You know what? Never mind that."

He stopped talking, and they sat for a while, the occasional sniffle coming from Sock. Eventually, the sun began to rise. It glowed brilliantly, throwing light Eastwards over the dismal graveyard and painting the clouds with liquid gold.

Wait a second... Eastwards? The sun was rising from the West. That can't be right.

Then they saw that it wasn't the sun, and it was closer than Sock had thought. A silvery moon still hung high, almost blotted out by the light. A figure emerged from it, holding their shadowed hand out to Sock. He stared, eyes shining.

"Jesus, Prov. Always with the dramatic entrance."

"Aww, lighten up, Meph. Hah! Get it?"

\--------

There was shocking pain, and a scream, and then a blackness pulling at his mind. He blearily opened his eyes, not wanting to let go, to see Sock's tear-stained face over him. People were murmuring, pointing at Sock and whispering under their breaths. The rest was a haze; as the terrible pain radiated from his side, Sock talked gently to him, clear as a bell among the dulled-out screams, and Jonathan died listening to his voice.

Everything fell away. The noise disappeared, Sock's broken words being the last, and everything seemed to drop beneath him. He was rising, rising into a blinding light. He couldn't tell if it was white or blue, black or red. Was it every colour at once, or none of the colours at all?

A sudden fear overtook Jonathan. Where was he going? For all he knew, Heaven didn't exist. Sock could've been making it up, trying to comfort him. For all he knew, there was nothing but Hell after death. For all he knew, he was about to be tortured for the rest of eternity, forever burning and forever screaming.

"Help!" He yelled, not knowing what else to do. Stumbling, trying to run through the unyielding brightness, weak but ignoring the searing pain in his side, he wondered if this was what Hell was like. It certainly felt like it; he knew he was running, but it was as if the invisible floor was a pool of molasses. He couldn't feel his feet touching a thing, but knew he was somehow moving forwards. And yet it was so  _difficult_  to. Jonathan didn't know where he was, didn't know if he was dead or dreaming, and didn’t know if he would ever see anyone again.

He shouted again, voice falling dead in the thick silence. But then he gave up. Collapsed into the floor of invisible molasses. Gave in to the angry, biting hurt in his left rib. Blood poured from it, and Jonathan was so acutely aware of every drop spilled that he couldn't stand it.

Was this Hell?

Just as he was wondering if it was possible to kill yourself in the afterlife, it all stopped. Or, rather, everything started. The colourless/colourful light slowly took form. A floor rose beneath him, tiled and cool, and thousands of voices began to fade into hearing. They were nice; peaceful- not overwhelming and loud. Somewhat of a relief from Earth's typical clamour.  _So... This is Heaven?_

He seemed to be in some sort of office. It was bright and loud, colours wildly clashing against each other in swirls and splatters. There were beautifully detailed eyes, flowers and other shapes accompanying them. Someone was in the far corner, painting with extreme focus.

Jonathan slid down the colourful wall behind him and stared at the floor, defeated. Someone's dark hand landed softly on his shoulder, a cool voice accompanying it. "Hey there, Jonathan. It's me, God."

Jonathan looked up quickly, and his eyes widened. The woman who had been painting, with short, plum hair and gold, glittery eyes was standing over him. She giggled. "But call me Providence. Bet you didn't expect me to be your God, huh?"

Jonathan felt a little guilty then, and didn't answer. "I'm kidding, sweetie. Now- why are you crying?" She asked, kneeling down beside him. He tried to choke out an answer, but all that came out was "Sock".

Providence raised an eyebrow. Then her eyes widened, and she looked at him pityingly. "Oh... You're the boy who fell for his demon counterpart, aren't ? Hm, Sock's case was a weird one, wasn't it? Well, look at it this way: Heaven is a place in which one can be truly happy. So, does Sock make you happy?"

He sniffled and cleared his throat a little. "But- I mean, he's a demon, and this is Heaven..."

"Does he?" she pressed. "Forget about where you are and what he may be. Would Sock honestly make you feel happy?"

Jonathan thought carefully. The obvious answer was yes, of course he would. But it wouldn't make a difference, would it? Could it?

He decided it was worth a try. "...Yes. Yeah, he... he would."

Providence smiled proudly at him, as if he'd just achieved some high award. "Good for you. Now, I've got some things to attend to, but I'll let you in on a little secret. Nothing is set in stone, Jonathan."

And with that, she left. No goodbye, no explanation, just- gone. No- the entire office was. He was standing in some kind of grassy plane.

Laughter sounded around him- there were little children running around on the grassy plain, chasing each other. Some of them had wings, some didn't. Other people, so many of them, wandered and chattered and watched the little kids with a smile. Some were crying, but had a friend to comfort them. Others were simply lying down, reading books or staring up at whatever was above them. The sound of calm, rushing water sounded nearby; a waterfall was sliding silkily into its crystalline pond. Trees grew everywhere, bright and unbelievably healthy. He wanted to drink in every detail, but couldn’t help scanning it for a familiar face.

It was light and seemingly sunny, though he knew that Heaven must be far away from Earth itself. But it sure looked similar; in fact, exactly the same, but as if human touch had never been able to corrupt it. He couldn't help smiling, but...

Something was still missing. He looked around anxiously, feeling the panic rise back into his chest and the back of his throat. He had to get out of here; had to find someone, anyone he knew. He couldn't be left all alone here. Not again. He'd had enough of "alone", enough of going entire weeks without uttering a word, enough of having no friends. He'd thought he didn't mind being alone, but Sock had changed that. There was no way he could spend an eternity without him.

Jonathan felt that familiar, aching feeling grow in his throat- the type you get when you're about to cry. He couldn't control his own breathing, and suddenly wished he could be down in Hell with Sock instead of up here in Heaven with no-one.  _No,_  he scolded himself.  _This is Heaven, you're supposed to be happy here!_

Jonathan blinked, and looked around again. No-one he knew walked through the marble halls and lush gardens. No-one he recognised seemed to be flying on silvery wings of feathers, high above. No-one he had ever known was with him, there for him. What had Providence even meant? 'Nothing is set in stone'? She didn't-- she couldn't have meant that Sock...

 "Hey, hot stuff!"

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Okay. In retrospect, I seriously can't write for shit.  
> But honestly, I can't believe I actually finished this somewhat?? I know the ending was lazy and all, and it was nowhere near how I wanted it to turn out (For example, there was going to be a whole thing about Sock's father ending up in Hell and him then accidentally calling Meph 'dad'), but it still kinda works. Whatever, sue me.  
> Anyways! I figured I may as well write this for adhd Hinata (aka Jordan), since it was based on one of their vines. Just wanted to make that clear; the original idea was hers, I just reaaaaaaaaally wanted to develop it into a fanfiction. So, here ya go, Jordan; happy 18th!! ~~Sorry it kinda sucks balls.~~
> 
> questions? comments? requests? hmu on my writing blog: dhillarearenn !


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